


Oral Learnings

by cathcer1984



Series: Tumblr Fic [11]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Coronavirus, D/s undertones, Don't Ask, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:41:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23303329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathcer1984/pseuds/cathcer1984
Summary: Stiles' anxiety is through the roof, with Coronavirus and the monster of the week and not seeing his Pack. Peter ends up helping soothe him.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Tumblr Fic [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/546709
Comments: 12
Kudos: 223





	Oral Learnings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shey/gifts).



> [Based on this tumblr post:](https://shey-elizabeth.tumblr.com/post/613487393952137217/steter-prompt)
> 
> Okay, but where is my Coronavirus fic where Stiles can’t keep his hands (hoodie-strings, pens, lacrosse gloves) out of his mouth, and Peter is 1000% done (because it’s dangerous, of course!)? Bonus points if he gives him something more fun to occupy his oral fixation with.

The sharp sting of a slap to the back of his hand makes Stiles glare up at Peter. "What the hell, dude?"

"Do you want to die?" Peter stands over him, staring down.

Stiles looks from the hand still hovering in front of his face to Peter and back again. "You what now?"

Peter sighs dramatically. "It's all over the internet. Don't touch your face with your hands. It's not rocket science Stiles."

"Uh." Stiles drops his hand, he picks his nails instead of biting them. "I can't help it." Stiles looks sheepishly at the books on the table, the words blur together because he can't focus.

He and Peter have been researching the latest threat to Beacon Hills while the Pack is spread thin. Isaac and Scott have picked up as many shifts as possible at the hospital, Derek is volunteering at the shelters to get food out to the people in quarantine. The werewolves are all immune to the virus but Stiles isn't. And they can still be carriers.

The Pack have been strict about washing their hands and not coming too close to Stiles and it's taking its toll. Stiles needs physical comfort. He hasn't had a hug from Scott in over three weeks, hasn't stood shoulder to shoulder with Derek, hasn't punched Isaac in the arm for being a dick. Handy seen his dad, who's out in the community keeping people from panic buying and fighting over toilet paper. Hasn't seen Melissa who, like her son, is working overtime at the hospital. Hasn't had any company besides himself or Peter.

His anxiety is through the roof. Stiles can't focus on anything. It's too hard, too much, too overwhelming. The world has gone into panic-mode, the covid-19 virus is shutting countries down, killing people and freaking Stiles out. A warm hands draws him out of his thoughts and gently tugs the string of his hoodie out his mouth. Stiles doesn’t even know when he started chewing on it.

“What do you need?”

Stiles shrugs, feels his face heat a little. Peter is patient though, palm firm at the back of his head and thumb stroking gently as he waits Stiles out. “To get out my head.” Stiles admits quietly.

“Go.” Peter points to the stairs, “take a shower, I’ll clear up here.”

“I can’t just stop, Peter! This _thing_ is killing people and if they stop going into the preserve it’s going to come into town and- and-”

Peter tightens the grip of his hand. “It can wait a little while. We have a window of opportunity before it kills again. Go, and I will join you.”

“In the shower?” Stiles asks, as he half falls out the chair.

“If you want.” Peter smirks, nostrils flaring as he takes in Stiles’ scent.

Nodding, Stiles head upstairs to the bathroom. His heart is pounding, his mind is all over the place and his hand shakes as he turns the water on. As steam fills the bathroom, Stiles gets himself tangled in his hoodie as he tries to take it off.

Stiles jumps when he hears the snick of the door opening. “Stiles.” Peter says, voice soft but firm.

In that moment Stiles feels pathetic. He can’t help anybody, not like his Pack is doing or his dad. Stiles can’t even take his own damned clothes off. He tries to suck in a breath and gets a mouth full of fabric instead.

He can’t breathe.

Stiles panics, heart pounding, breathing erratic and not enough. Warm hands slide up his arms and tug at the fabric until it’s over his head. Stiles’ vision is blurry, the steam in the bathroom isn’t helping but Peter is there. Solid and warm.

Peter doesn’t look Stiles in the eyes as he slides the plaid shirt off Stiles’ shoulders. His strong fingers hold the hem of the Captain America t-shirt Stiles is wearing. He’s waiting, Stiles realises with a dawning notion that _this_ isn’t just on him. The heated glances, the brushing of hands, the closeness, the snark, the banter. Stiles had put it down to his attraction and projecting his feelings onto Peter.

Only now, as they stand in Stiles’ bathroom, with steam floating around them that Stiles understands it’s not just him. It’s Peter too.

Slowly, Stiles raises his arms over his head. His cheeks hot, but the look Peter gives him is enough for Stiles to be sure. Peter drags the shirt up and over Stiles’ head quickly.

Peter drops it and his hand is on Stiles’ cheek. Peter’s thumb is tugging at Stiles’ lower lip, drawing it out of his mouth. Unable to stop himself Stiles sucks at Peter’s thumb.

“You really need something to keep your mouth occupied, don’t you?” Peter murmurs, eyes hooded with desire.

Feeling confident, Stiles winks and sucks harder. It’s worth it to see Peter’s eyes flutter shut.

Peter pulls his hand away after taking a few deep breaths, Stiles watches his chest expand with each one. Stiles starts to unbutton his jeans and kicks them down his legs, boxers following soon after. He takes a step away, and almost trips. Peter catches him with an amused laugh. “Easy now.”

Being so close, Stiles takes the opportunity to put his mouth on Peter’s neck and suck. Peter growls low in his throat. Hands firm on Stiles’ shoulders as they push him back. “Get in the shower.”

Stiles does. Carefully. He stands under the too hot spray eyes on Peter as he strips efficiently. When he steps into the shower Stiles shifts to the side so Peter can get under the water. Peter, though, has other ideas. He manhandles Stiles out the way, hogs the water for himself.

And Stiles doesn’t mind because he gets to his knees, opens his mouth, closes his eyes and waits. Soon enough there’s a weight on his tongue that has Stiles moaning around his mouthful. Peter’s hands thread through his hair, holding him still and steady as he pushes forward filling Stiles’ throat.

Automatically Stiles, wraps his lips and presses his tongue up as he hums. Peter’s hips stutter forwards and for a brief moment Stiles’ nose is pressed to the wet, wiry curls and he can’t breath. Unlike before it’s blissful.

Peter pulls back until the head of his cock is resting on Stiles’ lip, giving him a chance to take a deep breath. Then Peter is pushing back in, fucking Stiles’ mouth and taking control.

Stiles sits back on his heels, and let’s Peter use his mouth. He opens his eyes, blinking against the water expecting to see Peter with his head thrown back. Only Peter is looking down at him, eyes intense and mouth parted. When he catches Stiles looking at him, he grins and pushes his hips forward, pressing deeper into Stiles’ throat. Tears fall from Stiles’ eyes as he uses his nose to pull in some air.

Peter is relentless in his fucking. He must be close and Stiles is doing everything he can to get him over the edge. His tongue swirls around the head when Peter pulls back. Stiles accidentally scrapes his teeth against the underside and Peter jolts his hips forward uncontrollably then he’s filling Stiles’ throat with his come.

Swallowing it down Stiles stays on his knees until Peter hauls him to his feet. He’s pressed against the cold wet tiles, the heat of the water and Peter at his front.

Stiles’ mouth is soon filled again with peter’s tongue. They kiss almost viciously. Stiles rutting his hips forward trying to get some friction on his cock. Peter reaches down and grabs it tightly. “Not yet, pretty boy.”

“Peter.” Stiles moans, voice hoarse, before sucking Peter’s lip back into his mouth.

“I have more plans for you.”

“God, yes.” Stiles tries to thrust forward into Peter’s grip but can’t.

Suddenly Peter pulls away. The water is shut off and Stiles is dragged out of the shower, a towel is wrapped around his shoulders. Peter dries them off, then shoves two fingers into Stiles’ mouth when he sees Stiles lifting a hand to bite at his nails again.

“I see you haven’t learnt your lesson.” Peter admonishes him with a light swat on his ass.

Pulling his mouth off Peter’s fingers Stiles smirks. “I can be a really slow learner. I might need a lot of help.”

Peter grins sharply, “oh I do believe you’ll need extensive support.”

His fingers find their way back into Stiles’ mouth and Peter presses up against Stiles’ back. Peter starts to move, forcing Stiles forward. He stumbles a little over their clothes and with the weight at his back.

“Shall we continue your lesson?” Peter whispers hotly in Stiles’ ear.

With a long, suck to Peter’s fingers before pulling back to rest his head on Peter’s shoulder, with his fingers hovering over Stiles’ mouth. Stiles nods, “fuck yes,” before he takes those fingers back into his mouth.

“Get them nice and wet for me.” Peter praises him as they manoeuvre their way to Stiles’ bedroom. “That's a good boy."

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I don't even know. 
> 
> [I'm on tumblr.](https://cathcer1984.tumblr.com/)


End file.
